Posts
6269
Joined
7/15/2007
Location
Piqua, OH, USA
Edited Date/Time
1/21/2012 4:38pm
Women love rules. I learned this today.
Have you ever noticed that License Bureaus are at the top of the Regulations Roster? I mean, they have Rules, injunctions, laws, codes, pandects (I don’t know what it means either), statutes, rulings and ordinances and more rules.
And, when you go there you better have all your ducks in a row. When the big day comes once a year – I mean, the day to renew license tags you better have the proper identification, the right color shirt, the right paperwork and the correct attitude. By attitude, I mean a penchant for waiting that exceeds the oldest monk in a Monastery.
I took a number and sat down beside seventeen other grim looking “customers.” I call them customers loosely, because their expression looks more like an ancient Christian being marched into the Roman Coliseum. They have been here before. And they have no choice but to be here again. Or get a horse.
After waiting for what seems like two presidential terms, and one full length beard growth, they finally call my number. Then and only then am I allowed to approach the workerette (why are they all women?) and present my case. She forms the word “no” before I even tell her what I want. I figure it’s because I have been sitting there so long she thinks that I am a potted plant, and shouldn’t be asking for anything anyway. I tell her I want to buy a temporary tag.
“Just give me the title sir” she snaps pointing to the rule # 176884 on the wall. “Uhm..if I had the title I wouldn’t need a temporary tag for the vehicle I just bought in Kansas…” I mumble to her that I don’t have one yet (it is being mailed to me) – if I had the title I would buy a permanent tag. My efforts to keep the other bored “customers” out of the embarrassing conversation fail miserably when she raises her voice to “thunderclap” and says “YOU DON”T HAVE THE TITLE AND YOU WANT A TEMPORARY TAG?” I feel so guilty. I slink out of the building and go home to shave, and wait for the title.
Finally it comes in the mail. I go back to the Bureau and assume the potted plant position. Eventually they call my number. I hand her the title triumphantly. “I would like to register this vehicle.” She turns it over cheerfully and finds what she was looking for. She then announces to the other inmates in the room “IT HASN’T BEEN NOTARIZED.” Drat. I hate that sort of thing. Slink 2.0…
The following day, I get the dumb thing notarized and return to the scene of the crime. After my number finally gets called I present the freshly notarized title to the jailer…uhh…jailorette. She turns the title over suspiciously and sees the notary seal. She is visibly disappointed, but thinks of another tact. HAS YOUR VEHICLE BEEN INSPECTED? You guessed it. Rule # 78352311 “Uhh..inspected…I didn’t know it had to… be…uhh…? She cheers up considerably and sends me packing with no tags. Slink 3.0 ensues…. I am now considering just letting the beard grow, it may distinguish me from a potted plant. I come back with the inspection report paper and a slightly thinner wallet and a stack of papers. After the ice age is over they call my number. I present my wheelbarrow of papers & inspections & hopes to the Rule-Loving Thunderclap. She says DO YOU WANT TO DONATE A DOLLAR TO THE POOR STARVING HOMELESS CHILDREN !!? All the other potted plants look at me intensely. I am deeply ashamed so I answer the question discreetly. “No, I give to two other charities.” YOU DON’T WANT TO DONATE!!?
At last I am glad for the full beard, as it hides my identity somewhat. She shakes her head at my cruelty and finally begins filling out the registration. I make the check out to State of Ohio BMV and wait for the total. After writing the total on the check I hand it over, glad to be done with this nasty business. My check is greeted by a malevolent smile from her. YOU MADE THE CHECK OUT TO THE WRONG NAME!! YOU DID IT WRONG !! “Well, the last several years we were told to make it out to the State of Ohio BMV…”
THAT CHANGED THIS YEAR!! NOW YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT OUT TO…. I can tell that she really loves rules. I void the check and start the process over. Finally I am released on good behavior, and I grab the registration and dash for the door. On my way out I hear the thunderclap say to the poor farmer who has approached the counter to get tags for his truck. YOU HAVE THE WRONG COLOR SHIRT ON, TODAY IS BROWN SHIRT DAY. COME BACK TOMORROW IF YOU WANT TO WEAR A GREEN SHIRT…she points to rule #897445620.
OK. I made up the part about the shirt color but the rest shore is true. As I drive home I cannot help but be glad for my wife. She’s different, and I begin to cheer up automatically. I walk in the door and announce “Honey, I’m home.” She comes to greet me and I load up a kiss to fire in her direction. Just before the kiss hits the target she looks down at my feet. “Uh Oh.” You’ve got snow on your shoes and I just cleaned the kitchen floor. Would you please take them off? You know the rules, Hon.” That settles it. Women loves rules. But this one is rewarded with a smootch, so maybe rules do have a place after all. I’ll keep you posted…
hastily scrawled by `ol Ger on the back of a sheet of rules..
Have you ever noticed that License Bureaus are at the top of the Regulations Roster? I mean, they have Rules, injunctions, laws, codes, pandects (I don’t know what it means either), statutes, rulings and ordinances and more rules.
And, when you go there you better have all your ducks in a row. When the big day comes once a year – I mean, the day to renew license tags you better have the proper identification, the right color shirt, the right paperwork and the correct attitude. By attitude, I mean a penchant for waiting that exceeds the oldest monk in a Monastery.
I took a number and sat down beside seventeen other grim looking “customers.” I call them customers loosely, because their expression looks more like an ancient Christian being marched into the Roman Coliseum. They have been here before. And they have no choice but to be here again. Or get a horse.
After waiting for what seems like two presidential terms, and one full length beard growth, they finally call my number. Then and only then am I allowed to approach the workerette (why are they all women?) and present my case. She forms the word “no” before I even tell her what I want. I figure it’s because I have been sitting there so long she thinks that I am a potted plant, and shouldn’t be asking for anything anyway. I tell her I want to buy a temporary tag.
“Just give me the title sir” she snaps pointing to the rule # 176884 on the wall. “Uhm..if I had the title I wouldn’t need a temporary tag for the vehicle I just bought in Kansas…” I mumble to her that I don’t have one yet (it is being mailed to me) – if I had the title I would buy a permanent tag. My efforts to keep the other bored “customers” out of the embarrassing conversation fail miserably when she raises her voice to “thunderclap” and says “YOU DON”T HAVE THE TITLE AND YOU WANT A TEMPORARY TAG?” I feel so guilty. I slink out of the building and go home to shave, and wait for the title.
Finally it comes in the mail. I go back to the Bureau and assume the potted plant position. Eventually they call my number. I hand her the title triumphantly. “I would like to register this vehicle.” She turns it over cheerfully and finds what she was looking for. She then announces to the other inmates in the room “IT HASN’T BEEN NOTARIZED.” Drat. I hate that sort of thing. Slink 2.0…
The following day, I get the dumb thing notarized and return to the scene of the crime. After my number finally gets called I present the freshly notarized title to the jailer…uhh…jailorette. She turns the title over suspiciously and sees the notary seal. She is visibly disappointed, but thinks of another tact. HAS YOUR VEHICLE BEEN INSPECTED? You guessed it. Rule # 78352311 “Uhh..inspected…I didn’t know it had to… be…uhh…? She cheers up considerably and sends me packing with no tags. Slink 3.0 ensues…. I am now considering just letting the beard grow, it may distinguish me from a potted plant. I come back with the inspection report paper and a slightly thinner wallet and a stack of papers. After the ice age is over they call my number. I present my wheelbarrow of papers & inspections & hopes to the Rule-Loving Thunderclap. She says DO YOU WANT TO DONATE A DOLLAR TO THE POOR STARVING HOMELESS CHILDREN !!? All the other potted plants look at me intensely. I am deeply ashamed so I answer the question discreetly. “No, I give to two other charities.” YOU DON’T WANT TO DONATE!!?
At last I am glad for the full beard, as it hides my identity somewhat. She shakes her head at my cruelty and finally begins filling out the registration. I make the check out to State of Ohio BMV and wait for the total. After writing the total on the check I hand it over, glad to be done with this nasty business. My check is greeted by a malevolent smile from her. YOU MADE THE CHECK OUT TO THE WRONG NAME!! YOU DID IT WRONG !! “Well, the last several years we were told to make it out to the State of Ohio BMV…”
THAT CHANGED THIS YEAR!! NOW YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT OUT TO…. I can tell that she really loves rules. I void the check and start the process over. Finally I am released on good behavior, and I grab the registration and dash for the door. On my way out I hear the thunderclap say to the poor farmer who has approached the counter to get tags for his truck. YOU HAVE THE WRONG COLOR SHIRT ON, TODAY IS BROWN SHIRT DAY. COME BACK TOMORROW IF YOU WANT TO WEAR A GREEN SHIRT…she points to rule #897445620.
OK. I made up the part about the shirt color but the rest shore is true. As I drive home I cannot help but be glad for my wife. She’s different, and I begin to cheer up automatically. I walk in the door and announce “Honey, I’m home.” She comes to greet me and I load up a kiss to fire in her direction. Just before the kiss hits the target she looks down at my feet. “Uh Oh.” You’ve got snow on your shoes and I just cleaned the kitchen floor. Would you please take them off? You know the rules, Hon.” That settles it. Women loves rules. But this one is rewarded with a smootch, so maybe rules do have a place after all. I’ll keep you posted…
hastily scrawled by `ol Ger on the back of a sheet of rules..
A few years ago I go to register my truck in a new county. I get there first thing in the morning and only one person in front of me. Im stoked, this may not take all that long. I get to the counter and she asks my address. This is where it went south real fast. For some reason I blurted out my old address which is in a different county. She says Im registering in the wrong county and I tell her “oops, that was my old address” and I handed her my renewed license with the new address on it. She doesnt accept it. She said I already told her the wrong address and I need to go register in that county. She hands my stuff to me and calls next. Im left with my jaw wide open and infuriated. Guess she was having a bad day. Now Im having a bad day. I leave and cool off to come back later. At lunch I return to wait in a line for an hour but you bet I didnt blurt out any old address. I kept my mouth shut and just handed her (a different lady) my license. Had the registration shortly after.
This lady refused to provide a service I have to have in order to satisfy the law just because she could. My documents were in order and up to date but just because this lady foudn what appeared to be a crack in my armor, she exercised her “power”. I doubt there is a rule that says applicants cant make honest mistakes first thing in the morning. eventhough their documentation is correct.
C'mon Dude, you have lived in ohio for a while, you should know that you need your title to get your car registered. And I know you are fibbing about your big deal about the inspection, because they have an inspector there for people that need their car inspected, or you can take it to the nearest highway patrol substation. You obviously have the internet you could have looked all the info up at oplates dot com. You are just pissed that you had to talk to a *gasp* woman. Yeah some of them actually have jobs. You are stupid.
i bet your wife knows all this and she registers all your cars anyway, she was too busy chained up in your kitchen to do it for you.
I am either Hungry, or Horny...
If I don't have a Hard-on...Make me a god damn sandwich !!!
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$189.95 - $239.95
Havent made a scene since. : )
og
Here are some simple rules I like to follow in order to make things move smoothly.
-show up 10 mins before the place opens.
-have all paperwork in hand. ALL PAPERWORK.
-have the proper id you need, and then bring an extra 5 ids with you just in case they wanna try and screw with you.
-have a smile on your face, call them "mam, and sir"
-cut the attitude bullshit. They have a shit job dealing with a bunch of assholes that want things handed to them without the correct paperwork. You know the rules going in, get your ducks in line and play by the rules. They cant bend the rules for you - I'd imagine they would get fired it they did so.
-YOU arent any more important or in more of a hurry than every other person in the place. Take a seat, have a coke and shut the fuck up.
I dont get what women working at the place has anything to do with the story. You couldnt hide your colors if you tried.
and hey whats up with this ger?
"other grim looking “customers"
og
og
God bless,
og
Pit Row
ol Ger is gonna whoop that ass
If I needed something like a CEL for work, you'd be damn sure I'd have my shit in order so I didnt lose my license.
How can folks blame this on anybody but themselves?
Ger is a racist, sexist piece of shit, cowering behind a veil of religious better than thou attitude. Oh he hates gays too. Probably the ringleader of those people who protest dead soldiers funerals as Gods wrath on a gay harboring country.
Or Gays
this is true...
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